Troubleshooter
by boswifedeb
Summary: Houston's trip to Mexico to rescue Will from his drug lord cousin Diego left more than physical scars. With a lot of help, he begins putting the pieces back together again. But a phone call asking for his help puts him back in the crosshairs of a troubled young man with an abusive past.. **Immediately follows "Blood Relations"** Rated T for violence and language.
1. Chapter 1

**Troubleshooter**

" _Seeking to forget makes exile all the longer;_

 _the secret of redemption lies in remembrance."_

 _Richard von Weizsaecker_

 **01**

CJ Parsons-Houston stood out on the back porch and looked across the pastures of the Texas ranch. Matt had left out at sunrise that morning on the back of the mahogany bay and hadn't been back since. She had spoken to him on the phone once to make sure he was okay; that had been at two in the afternoon. It was now almost eight in the evening and he still hadn't returned. Marty and the other cowboys had come in around five and she had expected him to be with them, but the foreman shook his head. "He's still out there workin'. I tried to talk him into coming back with us but he said he would be along later." She had thanked him and went back to help Sheila with the kids. Now she stood debating whether or not to take one of the trucks out to look for him. Just as her foot hit the top step she saw him riding slowly toward the house in the distance. A flood of relief washed over her and she went down to meet him at the barn.

It had been a long two months since Matt's trip to Mexico where he lost not only his cousin Will but his maternal grandmother that he had only met moments before. He had recovered from his physical wounds; mental wounds were proving to be slower. He had been deeply depressed. Thankfully he had agreed to talk to a therapist - the same one that he had recommended to Will to help him with his PTSD. Although he was no longer just sitting staring at the wall, he still kept quiet and stayed by himself out working on the ranch and the improvement - and there had been a significant amount - had been by degrees.

"Hey, Cowboy."

"Hey." He didn't look up at her but continued into the barn to remove the saddle and tack from the bay. She went to the tack room for grooming tools and a couple of rags. Although neither spoke, they worked on the horse as a team. In short order the gelding was cleaned up and being put into the pasture behind the barn. He leaned on the fence and looked out over the land.

"Come on in and eat your supper." She rubbed his back.

"Not hungry."

"You've been out working all day, hon. You need to eat." He didn't answer and she gently took his left hand in hers and tugged, turning him to face her. His eyes - although still filled with sadness - no longer held the blank expression that had signalled the start of his depression. "Come here." Putting her arms around his middle she squeezed him tightly, the smells of sweat, leather, horse, dust, and wood coming off of him.

Matt laid his head down on top of hers and pulled her closer, closing his eyes. He hated being like this and felt like he was letting CJ and the kids down. But it was so hard being around everybody. He knew that no matter what had happened life would go on and no matter how hard he tried or how many people told him that none of what had happened had been his fault, he had blamed himself. After many long hours of thought he was starting to feel differently about the situation.

They stood like that for several minutes. Finally she pulled away from him a little bit. "Now, come on in and eat before Madre Rosa throws another fit." She tugged his arm and grudgingly he followed.

"Another fit?"

"Yes." She wrapped her arm in his. "When you didn't turn up for lunch she almost threw a tantrum."

"Really."

"It wasn't pretty." She looked over at him. "So don't give her cause again." The reply was a nod and they went up the back steps and inside.

As soon as the kids heard his boots on the kitchen floor they materialized and began telling him all about their day. Catey Rose had recently celebrated a birthday and was more talkative than ever. The twins Mike and Vinny were every bit as mischievous as their dad had been at their age and were twice the trouble to their nanny and the other adults in the house. Even Tilly bounded into the kitchen glad to see her master and offered her paw in greeting. The half blue heeler - half husky mix was the self-appointed guardian of the Houston children and had her work cut out for her. And above it all was Madre Rosa, the longtime housekeeper of the Texas ranch who had helped to raise Matt from the age of five.

"There you are. Sit, _hijo_." She went to the microwave and removed his favorite dinner: beef fajitas with homemade tortillas and salsa. " _Basta!_ Settle down." She barked at the children who quickly obeyed. Sheila came to the door and herded the kids upstairs to get ready for bed. "Now, you eat. And I don't mean pick at it. Eat it or I will take you across my knee." With hands on hips, the little woman - hardly over five feet - presented a formidable force. She sat down on the side opposite CJ to supervise. "You will dry up to nothing if you don't start taking better care of yourself." She wasn't overreacting: he had lost twenty pounds.

Silently he began eating, the flavor of the food lifting his spirits a little bit. He made an effort. "So what have the kids blown up today?"

"Not so much blowing up. It's been more of a pushing the boundaries kind of day. And of course Catey has been trying to lay down the law." That brought a chuckle from him. It was an encouraging sign. That was the first time it had happened since the trip to Mexico.

After he ate to the approval of the housekeeper, he went upstairs and could hear as nanny Sheila Wentworth attempted to wrangle the offspring into bed. His voice cut across the chaos. "Y'all settle down now." Immediately they obeyed.

"Daddy…" Catey, whose eyes were exactly like her mother's took him by the hand. "Would you please play a song for us?" He hesitated. "Please?" Her request was echoed by the boys.

"Promise you'll go to bed without any more fuss?" There was chorus of yeses. "Alright." The kids crowed. "Simmer down." They nodded, exchanging joyful looks. CJ brought the guitar to him and he sat on the foot of his daughter's bed and began strumming. "What do y'all want to hear?"

All three blurted out, "Home on the Range!"

"Alright." Matt began and the kids joined in while CJ, Sheila, and Madre Rosa exchanged smiling but tearful looks. He was finally coming out of it.


	2. Chapter 2

**02**

Bram Kasper drove the Honda west on I-10 just outside of Vinton, Louisiana. He had been traveling from Florida for the last three days after picking up his latest toy in Miami. It was a sniper rifle that could easily be broken down into three pieces and fit inside of a backpack. Laughing out loud, he thought back to the dealer that he had gotten it from. The Jamaican had the nerve to try to raise the price on him at the last minute. Unfortunately for him, Bram had another little surprise up his sleeve - literally: a small .22 derringer with an arm slide. Oniel Linford never knew what hit him right between the eyes. Bram helped himself to all the ammunition he could fit into the Kia as well as a shotgun and the 9mm Beretta that he had waved under his nose when telling him that the outfit was going to cost twice as much.

The drive was peaceful enough for a couple of hours until he reached Port St. Lucie and was pulled over by a highway patrolman for speeding. He had only been going ten miles over the limit. When the man had asked for his license the little .22 came into play again. Casually, he exited the car, moved the trooper onto the side of the road and went on his way.

His next stop was at a Burger Nerd on the outskirts of Fort Pierce where he picked up a couple of cheese burgers, a cherry turnover, and a Chevy Impala. He took I-95 and went a couple more hours before the Chevy began having engine problems and he stopped at Daytona Beach. It was three in the morning when he took the Jeep from behind a convenience store after moving all of his gear into it and then found a hotel room for the night.

The next morning he decided to try out his new rifle. He went to a seven story hotel right on the beach and took the elevator to the top floor, then found the exit for the roof. It was a beautiful morning, clear as could be and he quickly found a target: a young man of about twenty who was surfing with friends. All three picked the same wave and as they rode in, Bram could see them laughing and yelling at each other. He carefully followed the young man through his scope and then slowly pulled the trigger. There was a _CRACK_! The young man was flipped backwards off his board. Bram didn't stick around to see the rest. He quickly bagged the weapon and went back out to the Jeep.

The next few hours were spent peacefully enough until the stolen Jeep was discovered by a cop west of Tallahassee. Luckily, Bram had most of his ammo in a backpack now and had simply taken off into the woods after knocking the old guy in the head after he was handcuffed. The key was in his shirt pocket and in short order, the cop was in the trunk of his patrol car and Bram stole another car, this one an old Escort. The trip west continued.

Mobile, Alabama had been his next pitstop and he had really hated to leave the little Escort behind, but it was important to keep switching cars. The Honda had been taken from a small used car dealer that had been closed. It was Sunday after all.

He stopped at a truck stop in Moss Point, Mississippi for fuel and a deputy was keeping a close watch on him. After filling the Honda, he entered the restroom and waited. Sure enough, the deputy appeared. The little .22 spoke again and he left the man in one of the stalls with a neat hole in his head, laughing as he left the restroom. He had locked the door of the stall from the inside and climbed over the wall, exiting out of the next stall just as an elderly man and his grandson entered. Apparently they didn't notice anything unusual and he calmly drove out of the parking lot and got back on I-10 headed west.

Baytown came into view and he decided to call it a day. After moving his gear into the hotel room, he ordered pizza, took a shower, and began flipping channels on the TV.


	3. Chapter 3

**03**

Early the next morning Marty pulled up behind the house and cut the engine on the white pickup, a concerned look on his normally jovial face. He entered the kitchen of the Houston home and found CJ in the laundry room tossing clothes in the dryer. "CJ…"

"What's up?" She closed the door and hit the button.

"A courier just brought this to the gate while I was on my way in from the feed store. It's addressed to Houston, but…"

"Thank you." She frowned when she saw that the package had come from Nuevo Laredo. Chewing her bottom lip thoughtfully, she carefully opened it and removed the envelope inside. After looking it over carefully, she opened it and removed a sheet of paper. Her jaw dropped as she read the words and then her eyebrows raised as she read it again. "Well...there's a little good news."

"What's that?"

"It's from the new leader of Las Serpientes. He wants Houston to know that there is no longer a contract on him and that they will be more than happy not to have any further dealings with him." She looked at the foreman who seemed just as surprised. "According to this he and Will took out all but one of the top members of the gang. The remaining man is the new leader. He says that Houston has nothing to fear from the gang and that they bear no grudges against him. Apparently Diego was not very well thought of; there was a coup in the making when the kidnapping occurred."

"That's some great news." He breathed a sigh of relief. "Maybe that will help Houston."

"I don't think it will hurt any at all." She gave a relieved smile.

Later that afternoon CJ checked her phone and saw the text coming in from Harris County Sheriff Francine Martinez: _call me when you can._ Once she was sure that the kids were down for their naps, the lawyer stepped out onto the back porch and looked around. Matt had gone for a run a little while earlier and wasn't back yet. Punching the sheriff's number on her phone she continued to look around. "Hi."

"Thanks for getting back to me." Martinez stood looking out over Buffalo Bayou and the downtown Houston skyline, the view from her office a spectacular one that she unfortunately didn't get to enjoy nearly enough. "How's he doing?"

"A lot better." She described the laughter and sing-a-long with the kids plus his reaction to the letter from Mexico. "He's out running right now."

"That's a big relief. The reason I wanted to talk to you…" She paused. "When we pulled him out of the river he had a pistol and he gave it to me."

"Okay." CJ had no idea; nothing had ever been said about it.

"I ran the numbers on it. It was Wade Mattlock's service weapon."

"You're kidding me. Where...ohhhhh." She thought back. Matt's father Wade had been a joint owner of a bar in Nuevo Laredo. His partner Pablo Escamilla had helped Matt with a vehicle and cell phone. Apparently he had also given Matt the pistol. She explained it to Francine.

"Okay. Well, I cleaned it up for him. After being in the river it needed it. I just wondered if you thought it would be okay to give it back to him?"

CJ paused. "I'm not sure. Let me talk to Dr. Mullins. He's been taking a rifle out with him for snakes while working on the ranch and has had to shoot a couple and it hasn't bothered him. But since the pistol was involved with what happened in Mexico, it might be best to ask him. Do you mind holding onto it for a little longer?"

"Not at all." She sat back down behind the desk. "Just let me know."

"I'll do it. Thanks." CJ hung up and looked up to see Matt jogging back up to the house. He had been running along the fence lines of the ranch the last week or so. Heavy physical activity seemed to calm him and probably, she thought to herself, gave him time to think.

Stopping at the bottom of the back steps he leaned on the railing and stretched, his tank top and shorts covered in sweat. The temperature was 94° and the humidity was nearly as high. Clouds were blooming up in the afternoon heat and thunder had started rolling across the area a while earlier.

"I think we're going to have to hose you down before you can come in the house, Cowboy."

"Well…" He pulled the shirt off and she noticed that the scar from his latest wound was still a bright pink. "I thought about going skinny dippin' in the river." The smile on his face was worth more than anything to her considering how much pain he had been in over the last two months.

"Good thing you didn't. The fishing never would be the same again." They both laughed.

He looked at his watch. "Better get a shower. Doc Mullins will be here pretty soon. I stayed out longer than I had planned." Buzzing her cheek he went past into the house.

Sitting down on one of the big swings on the back porch she was thinking that she hadn't been told about the appointment with the psychiatrist. Was it a good sign?

Fifteen minutes later Marty called to let her know that he had let the doctor through the security gate. Roger Mullins parked behind the house and stepped out of his car. Slightly shorter than CJ, he was an interesting sort. He had served in the Army in Iraq for four years before coming home and getting a degree in psychiatry. His main clients were veterans and their spouses.

She stood as he came up the steps. "Good afternoon."

"As long as the air conditioning is working it is." He shook his head. "This humidity is terrible!"

"Can I ask you something before we go in?" She had lowered her voice.

"Sure." He listened as she told him about the phone call from Martinez. "And you say he's been carrying a rifle on the property?"

"He has - there are a lot of copperheads around here. Plus rattlers. He's had to use it twice."

He shuddered. "Hate damn snakes. I think it would be okay for him to have the pistol but let's talk about it this afternoon and see."

"I think you're going to be impressed with him. He's improved a lot."

"Good. I've felt like he was on the verge of a breakthrough and when he called this morning I could tell a definite change."

They entered the kitchen and were getting drinks when Matt entered. "Hey, Doc."

"How's it going?"

"A lot better." Matt grabbed a glass out of the cabinet and poured himself some tea.

"If you're ready we can get started." Mullins carried his tea as he followed Matt into the study. "CJ, join us please."

She nodded and closed the door behind her as she entered the room that looked out over the front lawn of the ranch. Sitting next to Mullins on the love seat, she looked at Matt as he sat down behind the desk.

"So tell me how it's going." He pulled out a small notepad and began taking notes as Matt told him about the last couple of days.

"I don't know why…" The cowboy leaned back in the chair. "It's just like something started to click last night when I got home."

"In a good way?"

"Yeah. It's going to sound stupid…"

"Like we've discussed before, nothing that you're feeling is stupid."  
"It's just...like I actually tasted the fajitas last night. Nothing has had a taste since Mexico. It's just been there, know what I mean?"

"Uh huh."

"And then talking to CJ about the kids, and them wanting me to play the guitar…" He paused. "It felt...like it used to - like it should."

"Very good."

"And when I woke up this morning, Mexico wasn't the first thing on my mind for a change. I was thinking about clearing out the brush in pasture 27 and checking the fences and...normal stuff."

"That's great." He continued to write. "And you've been getting a lot of exercise CJ tells me."

Matt chuckled. "You could say that. Been working my butt off around here. But it gives me time to think."

"I know you told me before that working around the ranch helps you to relax. It seems that's still the way of it."

"It is. Kinda like being on autopilot. It's stuff I've done most of my life so I really don't have to think about it."

"So it frees your mind for more important things."

"Yeah."

"Great." He wrote some more. "Now I want to talk about something else - something that relates to Mexico if that's okay."

"Alright."

He related what he knew about the gun, not telling Matt that Martinez was concerned as to whether or not it would upset him. "Can you tell us a little more about the pistol?"

Matt looked thoughtful and then a slight smile crossed his face. "Pablo Escamilla was my father's partner in a bar in Nuevo Laredo…" He went on to explain his visit there and how he had acquired the gun. "I was thinking this morning that I would like to get it back. I guess Francine still has it. I'd like to clean it up and put it on display on that wall right there." He nodded to the wall behind the loveseat. "Thought it would be a good place next to that picture of Wade and Bill."

"So thinking about it doesn't cause you discomfort?"

Matt was quiet for a minute and looked at Mullins appraisingly. "If I tell you something…"

"It's in the strictest confidence. You know that."

"Yeah, but I don't want you to think I'm crazy." He chuckled a little as did CJ when he looked at her. She had a feeling that she knew what he was about to say.

"You're probably one of the sanest people I've ever met, Houston."

"You are in bad shape, aren't ya?" He gave another little laugh and it made CJ's heart leap for joy.

"Go on…"

"Well…" He went on to explain how he had met his grandmother for the first time during the attempt to break Will out of Diego's estate. "She told me that she knew how it was going to end - that she had been dreaming about it for over a year." He paused and gauged the expression on Mullins face. It was unreadable. "And she knew that I have dreams like that."

"Dreams where you see the future?" He sounded intrigued.

"Sounds crazy. But you can ask CJ, it's come in awful handy at times."

The doctor looked to his right where the lawyer was nodding her head. "Really?"

"It's true."

"Interesting."

"So I've really been thinking about that the last couple of days - how she said she knew how it was going to end. And…" He took a deep breath and blew it out. "I really don't feel like what happened was my fault anymore. I did everything I could possibly do to keep it from happening. And Will _could_ have had an alarm installed at his house but he wouldn't hear of it. I had no control over that." There was another pause. "If the truck's gas tank hadn't been hit by the gang he would still be alive. That one is on them. Not me."

"Very good." Mullins finished taking notes. "And we've talked about survivor's guilt before…" The answer was a nod. "How are you feeling about it now?"

"I hate that he's gone. We loved each other like brothers. But both of us dying wouldn't make things any better."

"Good." The psychiatrist put down his pen. "I think you've come a long way."

"And?"

"I think we should continue to talk at least once a week for a while. More often if you feel the need."

"Okay."

The Houstons walked the doctor out to his car about the time that the kids came rushing out onto the back porch after their nap. Matt was immediately set on by them and went down to the little playground with them that they had designed and helped to build. CJ and Mullins watched as he held Vinny up so he could go across the monkey bars.

She looked at the man. "So what do you think?"

"He's out of the woods. He's going to be okay."


	4. Chapter 4

**04**

ATF agent Mitchell Gunterson knocked on the door of LAPD Lieutenant Michael Hoyt and was waved inside as the detective was hanging up his phone. "How's it going?"

Hoyt rolled his eyes. "Same old thing. Stupid people doing stupid stuff. How about you?"

"Busy. Have you heard about the state trooper shooting in Florida?"

"Yeah." The cop gave a scowl. "Lowlife."

"Well, the same lowlife attacked another officer outside of Tallahassee - an older guy. The hit he took on his head didn't kill him - but the stress of being locked in the trunk of his patrol car caused a heart attack. He died about an hour after he was found."

"Damn."

"This guy has been leaving fingerprints like the Easter bunny leaves eggs. He's also tied to the murder of a weapons dealer in Miami. It looks like that's where his little spree started. So far he's stolen three cars that we know of for sure and there's a possibility that he may have taken a fourth from a used car lot in Mobile. That was yesterday."

"So Miami, Ft. Pierce, Tallahassee, Mobile…" The cop leaned back in the chair as he thought. "He's heading west."

"Uh huh. And he's got some firepower. Worrisome firepower. A brand new Remington sniper rifle that can be broken down into three pieces, the .22 that he shot the trooper with, and we think he probably took the dealer's weapon or _weapons_ , too. Strange to find a known weapons dealer without any weapons on him at all."

"Not good at all. So what can I do to help?"

"Well…" He paused. "Have you heard anything from Houston lately?"

"As a matter of fact he called me this afternoon with some news." He told the agent about the message from the Mexican gang. "He was out for a run and had the phone on speaker. Sure wish I could talk while I run. Who am I kidding? I wish I could run without getting out of breath so bad."

"How did he sound?"

"Really good. I talked to CJ a little while ago. The doctor says he's out of the woods."

"Uh huh." Gunterson chewed on his lip.

"You thinking about calling him in on it?"

"Michael, this guy has got a major axe to grind with people in Texas. His mom gave up custody of him when he was nine and he grew up bouncing around from foster home to foster home. There was abuse involved. She moved to Texas with his step dad - who did some of the abusing. His biological dad works for an oil company in Texas. Plus he hinted to friends before he left that he was going to blast a hole in the Lone Star state."

"That's some hint." Michael took a sip of coffee. "I'd say we need to talk to CJ first - and Francine Martinez." He picked up his phone and dialed the lawyer's cell phone.

"Hey, stranger. Have you missed me?" CJ actually sounded happier than Michael had heard her in two months.

"Terribly. Are you where you can talk?"

"I can be - hang on." She went into the study and closed the door, the sound of Matt and the kids having a pre-bedtime romp in the den being muffled slightly. "What's going on?"

"Mitchell is here with me. Do you think Houston is up to helping out with a case?"

She froze, uncertain how to reply. Then after a deep breath she spoke. "What kind of case?" Listening intently as Michael put the phone on speaker and Mitchell explained she eased down onto the loveseat.

"This is right up his alley, CJ. If you think he's okay to work."

"Well...the doctor seems to think he's doing great. Hang on…" She answered the buzzer from the gate. "Hey, Francine. Come on in. And can you come back to the study? I need to ask your opinion on something." She returned to Michael.

"We wanted to ask her, too." Mitchell nodded to the cop.

A couple of minutes passed and the sheriff entered the study while CJ closed the door. After a quick run through from the ATF agent she gave it careful consideration. "If the doc thinks he's okay and so does CJ I'm inclined to give my approval. He and the kids are laughing and cutting up right now. Sounds like the old days around here."

Gunterson spoke up. "So I guess we just need to talk to him."

"Tell you what…" CJ got up. "Let me call you back in just a few minutes. He's supposed to put the kids to bed - they've demanded a song again tonight."

Michael smiled. "By all means. And tell them Uncle Mike says hello."

"I will. Talk to you in bit." She hung up and Francine joined her as she went to the door of the den. The whole group was rolling around in the floor giggling as they attacked their dad. "Alright - time for bed."

"Aww, Mama! Can't we stay up for a little longer?" Catey Rose was sitting on her dad's shoulders.

"Nope. It's bedtime. Why don't y'all tell Miss Francine goodnight?" She and Matt shared a smile as Vinny hot-footed it to the sheriff. He seemed to have a crush on her.

Francine picked up each of the children in turn and received hugs and kisses, then was invited upstairs to sing with them. The group tramped up the wide staircase and CJ brought Matt's guitar into Catey's room where he was asked to sing "San Antonio Rose". After another round of hugs and kisses, they settled into bed.

As the three adults started back down the steps Francine asked, "Where is Sheila?"

Both CJ and Matt grinned. "Out on a date with Marty."

"Really? That's great." She followed them to the kitchen where Matt poured tea and they took a seat at the kitchen table.

"Hon, Michael called a while ago. He and Mitchell have something to ask you." She dialed the cop's number. "Michael, we're here with Francine."

"Okay, let me put it on speaker so Mitchell can join in." There was a click. "Alright. I'll turn it over to him."

"Houston, have you been paying any attention to the news the last few days?"

"Not really. I've been out working on the ranch most of the time. What's up?"

The ATF agent went on to tell about Bram Kasper's exploits. There was silence on the line for a minute while Matt thought it over.

Finally the cowboy spoke. "So it sounds like he's heading west."

Mitchell filled him in on the family connection to Texas. "And there's one other thing: he has some military training. He made it to week five in Army boot camp and was in the top of his class for marksmanship."

"So what happened?"

"He freaked out in week six and threatened to shoot every one of his team members during some of the exercises. His sergeant also received a broken nose."

"Oh, boy. Not good." He looked across the table at the two women. "So...is this you asking for help, Mitchell?"

"If you feel up to it, I would appreciate it. Dealing with folks like this seems to be a specialty of yours and it _is_ your stomping grounds. But if you say no I will understand."

Matt thought it over for a minute and looked to CJ. "Babe?"

"Hon, I think you should." Ordinarily she was hesitant about him getting in harm's way but she thought the case might be just what he needed. After his return from the Army in 2005 he hadn't felt useful until he had brought down Emil Castanos. His work chasing the international serial killer had brought him out of one of the darkest times of his life.

"Francine?" He looked to the woman who was technically his boss, at least as far as his work with the sheriff's office went.

"Go for it. I think you need to get back in the saddle."

"Alright. Mitchell, can you email me everything you have on the guy so I can get started?"

"I'm sending it right now." He punched a few keys on his phone. "Done."

"Are you coming down?"

"Michael says the fajitas there are worth the trip alone so yeah, I'm on my way. I'll catch the next flight out."

"Text me your arrival time when you get it."

"Will do. Thanks."

"See you in a while."

CJ disconnected the call as Matt looked across at Francine.

"So did you just come to see your boyfriend Vinny or was it because of Mitchell?"

"I always want to see Vinny - and Mike and Catey Rose. But the original reason was to give you something." She slipped the pistol from the back waistband of her khakis and put it on the table. "I cleaned it up for you. River water isn't exactly great for them."

Matt reached across and picked it up, nodding his head. He kicked the magazine out, looking it over. "Thanks. I was afraid I would lose it on the way over. It means a lot."

"You're welcome."


	5. Chapter 5

**05**

Houston was leaning against the front of the HCSO Suburban outside George Bush Intercontinental Airport at midnight waiting for Mitchell to exit the facility that even at that late hour was quite busy. Finally he saw the weary ATF agent coming outside and looking around. A smile spread across his face when he saw the tall cowboy.

"Good to see you." The two men shook and Matt tossed his bag into the back.

"Load up, bud." He went around and slid behind the wheel of the truck and made his way out onto Will Clayton Parkway headed east toward the ranch. "I did a little digging into Kasper after I got off the phone with you. He had a rough time of it as a kid for sure."

"That's what I understood."

"Bad enough for a step dad to abuse you but when you get abused in several different foster homes along the way I'd say it's easy to get your views on life skewed. Not that it's an excuse for what he's done; that trooper sure as hell didn't cause his problems."

"Nope." Mitchell tried to stifle a yawn.

"According to the records that I could tap into from MDPD his dad wasn't any prize either. Used to beat the mom and drink up the rent money. Then left when he was eight. His mom got hooked up with the step dad a few months later and signed the boy over to the state. They packed up and left for Texas right after that."

"Any idea where they are?" There was now a full on yawn with no pretense to stifle it.

"CJ was working on that when I left." He glanced over at the man after turning left onto Atascocita Road. "I'd say our best bet is to get some sleep and start after him first thing in the morning."

"Alright." He yawned again. "So how are the kids?"

"Fat and sassy. Growin' like weeds of course."

There was silence from the passenger seat and he looked over after merging onto FM 1960 and saw that the agent was asleep. He grinned and drove the rest of the way to the ranch in silence.

Matt was up, shaved for the first time in over two months, and dressed by five the next morning He was sipping coffee in the study while working the keyboard when Mitchell fumbled his way into the kitchen after tracking the smell of the coffee from the upstairs bedroom. "Houston?"

"In the study. Hang a right." He snickered behind his coffee mug as the agent came into the room.

"Damn. This is a big house."

"It's got a few rooms." He pointed to the monitor in front of him and Mitchell came around the desk. "Turns out Kasper took a Honda from that car lot in Mobile. I've got an APB out on it right now. CJ found the mom and step dad in Weedhaven."

"That's actually a place?"

"Yup." Matt zoomed in on the trailer that was located off of Texas State Highway 172 in Jackson County.

"Looks like they named it right."

"Jack Toby works nights at a plastics plant in Fort Comfort. That's just a few miles southwest of Weedhaven. Krista Toby works at a motel not far from there in Port Lavaca. Now Hayden Kasper - the biological father..." He pulled up another tab on the screen. "Works here." He clicked on the map that showed a point about forty miles southeast of Galveston in the Gulf of Mexico.

"An oil rig?"

"The preferred name is oil platform. And I have a very close, personal knowledge of this particular platform. It's called El Toro Bravo. My dad used to own it."

"Can you get us out there to talk to him?"

"I can. I'll call the owner here in a couple of hours. He's a friend of mine."

"Boy, am I glad you agreed to help."

"Let's get some breakfast before we head to Weedhaven." He clapped the man on the shoulder and they went into the kitchen.

Thirty minutes later they pulled down the driveway of the Houston home with Mitchell turning around in his seat gawking at the front of the house. "Damn. "Gone with the Wind" all over again."

"Nah, CJ's sure smarter than Scarlet O'Hara - and a hell of a lot sexier ." They both laughed as Matt headed south on Crosby-Huffman Road.

"So how far down does your property go?" The agent had been keeping an eye on the fence and hadn't seen any sign of another tract.

"Well, we've got a little ways." When he reached East Stroker Road he pointed. "That's the south end."

"Holy cow!"

"Nope, don't think any of ours could really be considered holy." He cut his eyes at the man, a lopsided grin on his face. "Welcome to Texas."

Gunterson shook his head as the cowboy laughed. They got quiet and he wondered what was safe to talk about with the detective.

"You don't have to walk on eggshells, bud." Matt cut his eyes over at his passenger. "It's okay."

"I'm sorry."

The answer was a nod. "I guess I just needed a little time for my mind to work through things. The last couple of years have been rough in a lot of ways."

"I think that's an understatement." He thought about it. "But at least you have CJ and the kids."

Houston nodded. "I'm lucky."

The trip southwest went fairly quickly and they pulled to a stop outside the trailer on an unmarked road outside of Weedhaven around 7:30. There was an old burnt out Chevy pickup sitting on blocks with weeds growing up through the opened hood, an old Rambler without a rear axle, and a Yugo that looked like it might be running.

Matt went up the steps and knocked on the door, his right hand automatically resting on the butt of his pistol as he did so, the sunlight glinting off the seven pointed star that rode on the gun belt. He adjusted the white straw cowboy hat on his head with his left hand and then knocked again. They exchanged a look as someone tripped over what sounded like aluminum cans and began cursing near the door. It swung open and a man with droopy, dingy boxers squinted up at them.

"Yeah, what?"

"Jack Toby?"

"What's it to ya?" He gave the man speaking another look and his eyes narrowed when he got to the badge. "You ain't Jackson County."

"Nope. Harris County. Need to talk to you."

"I don't gotta talk to you if you ain't Jackson County."

Gunterson pulled out his ID. "Try this one then: ATF." He wanted to laugh at the reaction but kept a straight face.

"Oh…"

"How about you let us come in there? It's hot out already." The agent stepped toward Toby and watched as he backed up. "Now - you have a stepson named Bram Kasper?"

"Yeah, no good, worthless, little sh-"

"Well, it might interest you to know that he may be on his way here to see you. And he isn't coming empty-handed."

"Oh, yeah? Well, he might just get something back."

"From what I've heard he owes you." Matt's voice was no-nonsense and the look was stern.

"I don't know what-"

"Like hell you don't. Now, what we want to know is if there is anybody else besides you, your wife, and his father that he might want to go after?"

"No, I don't guess."

Gunterson interjected. "You better do more than guess. If somebody else gets hurt because you didn't speak up…" He left an unsaid threat dangling in the air.

"Well…" Toby sat down suddenly on a threadbare couch and crunched a beer can under his ass. "He's got a sister."

Matt and Mitchell exchanged a surprised look and the detective picked up the thread. "She's Krista and Hayden's kid?"

"No, she's mine and Krista's. Born after we moved here."

"How old is she?"

"Thirteen."

"Is she here?"

"No…" He paused and looked uncomfortable again.

"Where the hell is she?" Gunterson was past patience with him.

"At her grandma's in Port O'Connor."

Matt kept his opinion of why the girl wasn't there to himself but asked, "Where's Krista?"

"Working at the hotel."

After getting back on Highway 35 headed south, Matt called Gary Jordan. After a couple of minutes on hold the familiar voice came over the line. "Houston, how are you? I saw what happened with your cousin. I'm awful sorry."

"I appreciate that. Look, I may need to make a trip out to El Toro Bravo." Without going into too much detail he explained that they needed to talk to Hayden Kasper.

"Hang on and let me see if he's out right now." There was silence on the line for a couple of minutes and then Jordan came back on. "Houston, he's on the platform right now. What time will you be here?"

"Well, I've got to make a stop at Point Comfort and then over in Port O'Connor first so it may be a while."

"Not a problem. I'll keep a chopper on standby for you."

"I appreciate it, bud. I'll call you as soon as I get a better handle on the time."

The call ended, the two men continued their trip down to Port Lavaca to the Hotel 9. They entered the office and asked to speak to Krista Toby and were told to look for her on the upper level. They mounted the stairs and looked in either direction when they reached the top.

Mitchell blew out a breath. "Let's split up. Call me if you find her."

"Alright." Matt took the left hand side while the ATF agent went right. They met on the back side and both spied the cart that contained dirty linens and cleaning supplies. When they got to the door of the room, the smell of marijuana drifted out to them and both rolled their eyes. Houston rapped on the open door of the room and the sound of a toilet flushing was heard. The bathroom's fan was turned on and a woman of about thirty five exited.

"Room's not ready yet." She gave both a grumpy look.

"We're not here for the room." Gunterson flashed his badge. "You have a son named Bram Kasper?"

"Maybe."

"No maybe to it. You're his mother." He related the reasons for the visit. "Does he know where you live?"

"I never told him."

Matt spoke up. "When was the last time you had contact with him?"

"I dunno."

The two men looked exasperatedly at each other and then her. Mitchell kept his voice calm but irritation was threatening to surface. "Like we told your husband, you would be smart to get out of town until we get him in custody. Or we can arrange for the Jackson County Sheriff to post a guard at your home"

"I don't want a cop at my house!" She looked thoroughly offended.

Matt lost his patience. "Would you prefer they direct traffic for you on your way to the cemetery?"

"Cemetery?"

"You know the place where they plant dead people and fake flowers pop up?"

A few minutes later after being assured that the Tobys were going to leave town, they were pulling back out onto 35 headed toward Port O'Connor. Mitchell was drying his eyes; the minute he had gotten into the Suburban he had broken down in a fit of laughter. "Oh, God. We need to work together more often." He answered his phone and the laughter disappeared. "Hang on." He put it on speaker. "Repeat that, please."

A female voice came over the line. "Kasper used a rifle to kill a surfer at Daytona. He left the shell casing on the roof of a beachfront hotel. Also, he used the .22 on a deputy in Moss Point, Mississippi. He left the body in a bathroom stall locked from the inside." The two men in the truck looked at each other and Mitchell thanked the caller and disconnected.


	6. Chapter 6

**06**

Houston pulled into the driveway of the tiny house in Port O'Connor. Like many in the area it consisted of a smaller lower level that was mostly for storage and the upper level - that was supported by stilts - used for living quarters. Life in the coastal area meant the occasional chance of flooding.

They went up the steps and were met at the door by a woman in her sixties carrying a bag of garbage bound for the curb. "Oh, my goodness! You scared me to death!"

"Sorry about that. Sgt. Houston, HCSO…" He tapped on the badge.

"Harris County?" She looked perplexed.

"Yes, ma'am. I'm helping out ATF…" He paused as Mitchell showed his own badge. "Ma'am, I understand that your granddaughter is staying with you?"

"Y-yes...but what has that got to do-"

Mitchell took over. "Ma'am, we're here because of your grandson Bram."

"Bram…"

"Yes, ma'am. I don't want to upset you but he's on the Most Wanted list as of right now. He's responsible for at least four deaths in the last three days."

"My God."

"He apparently made some threats to folks here in Texas. We've already spoken to your daughter and her husband and advised them to either leave town until we have him in custody or allow us to place a guard on the property."

"Oh, my goodness." She grew pale.

"Maybe we can talk inside so you can sit down and get out of this heat?" Matt took her by the elbow and escorted her inside where a teenage girl was running the vacuum. She jumped as she looked up from her work and saw the strangers. The cleaner was cut off.

"Charlotte, these men are police officers." Beverly Casteneau sat down on an overstuffed chair. "Please have a seat." Both men sat on the love seat.

"Is something wrong, Nana?"

"Your half brother…"The older woman was shaking. "I've always been afraid something like this would happen."

"I don't have a half brother." She looked as if her grandmother had lost her mind.

"Yes, sweetie. You do. Your mama was married before."

"Okay, so why are you upset?"

"He's killed several people in the last few days." Matt leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. Turning his attention to Casteneau he asked, "Does he know where you live?"

"I...possibly. I sent him some money when he was down on his luck. He might have looked at the return address."

"Do you have some place that you can go for a few days?"

"We…" She shook her head. "I don't have money for something like that."

"No family members?"

"No. Just Krista."

Mitchell pulled out his phone. "Will you agree to having a guard placed on your house?"

"Of course."

He placed a call and was assured that deputies would be assigned to take care of the two women. After he hung up, Beverly spoke again.

"Do you know where he is?"

"Our best estimate is that he's reached Texas by now. We just don't know where. We've got an APB out on him, but he keeps changing cars, so…" He raised his hands.

"My goodness."

Matt turned the straw hat in his hands. "Ma'am, does he know about his sister?"

"Yes, and I'm afraid that's my fault. I told him about her when I sent the last check." She looked even more upset.

After waiting almost an hour for a pair of deputies to show up for guard duty, the two men went back to the Suburban and as he got behind the wheel, Matt paused.

"What?" Mitchell slammed the door shut.

"Think about it. Hayden Kasper is forty miles out to sea. Nobody gets on that platform without going through a lot to get out there; and then there's security."

"So out of all the folks he's got the least to worry about."

"Yeah. He's still got another week to go on his hitch." The deputy put the vehicle in drive and backed out of the driveway. "I think our efforts are better spent elsewhere."

Gunterson nodded and answered his phone automatically hitting the speaker. "Yeah?"

Francine Martinez's voice came in loud and clear. "The Honda that Kasper took was found in Baytown after the clerk saw a report about it. Kasper was in the office when it came on the TV. He tried to shoot the clerk."

"Tried?"

"And failed. The office has bullet resistant glass and a steel sliding cover. The clerk saw the TV, saw Kasper, and pushed the button for the cover. He called 911 from the back room."

"Do we know where he went?"

"One of the deputies who responded looked through the security camera footage. He left in a 2006 Pontiac Grand Prix, blue, tag number Boy-Ida-Sam 8524. He was headed south on Garth Road. I've got multiple roadblocks on 146 and 330 plus two air units up."

Gunterson nodded. "Sounds like you've got it covered."

"Have you managed to reach Kasper's parents?" She leaned back in the chair behind her desk.

Matt answered. "We have. The mom and step dad are going to bug out for a few days and the grandmother and half sister have guards outside the house. His father is out on El Toro Bravo - don't think we've got much to worry about there."

"Half sister, huh?"

"Yeah, we didn't know about her until this morning."

"Okay, is there anything else that I can do from this end?"

Mitchell looked to Matt who shook his head. "No, ma'am. I sure appreciate the help."

"Anytime. Gotta get back to it. Let me know if you need anything." She disconnected the call and blew out a breath. Although she had known that Kasper was headed in their direction she had hoped that he would get caught before he crossed into Texas.

Bram Kasper cursed as he drove. He had turned on the car's radio and learned that road blocks had been set up on both 330 and 146 - the two routes that he had considered taking on the next part of his trip. Instead, he had taken secondary roads and now found himself going west on Wallisville Road. The sign for the River Terrace Golf Course came into view and he slowed. The parking lot was nearly full. Pulling through the gate he drove across the gravel and pulled into a spot. There were a variety of cars, trucks, and SUVs present ranging from modest family vans all the way to a new Mercedes. While he would have enjoyed riding in the luxury of German engineering the smart bet was on the oldest and most "normal" looking vehicle: one that wouldn't attract any unwanted attention. His eyes landed on a white Ford F-150 with a few dents and dings. _Bingo_ he thought. Pulling out his backpack and the case that held the shotgun, he also eased out a well-used slimjim and casually walked to the passenger's side that was furthest from the building's door. A smile swept across his face: the truck was unlocked and the keys dangled in the ignition. After sliding the case inside and putting the backpack on the seat, he nonchalantly went around to the driver's side and calmly drove away. "Next stop: Weedhaven!"


	7. Chapter 7

**07**

Mitchell's phone rang once again. "Yes, ma'am?"

Francine's voice came over the line. "He just took a white F-150 from a golf course on Wallisville Road. They caught him on a security camera dumping the Pontiac. The truck's tag number is Echo-Juliet-Sierra 9236. We've already got an APB on it."

Matt shook his head. "Did anybody get hurt?"

"No, he just parked and took it. Didn't even have to break in. The owner left the keys in it and it was unlocked."

"Why in the hell…?" Gunterson rolled his eyes. "So I guess he's headed west?"

"Yep. The camera showed him turning right out of the parking lot."

"Sounds like he's headed for Weedhaven." Houston scratched his nose.

"I've upped the patrols just west of there and there are air units up as well. Plus DPS is stepping up their presence."

"Maybe we shouldn't." Matt stared out the windshield.

Martinez was silent for a minute. "Pardon?"

"Maybe we shouldn't set everybody after him. We know where he's going. And it's somewhat secluded. The last thing we want is for him to get pulled over somewhere highly populated and the bullets to start flying."

Gunterson, who had been looking at him in amazement now saw the wisdom of what he was saying. "That's not a bad idea."

"Maybe just have units report in when and where he's spotted so that we can keep track of when he'll get there." Matt looked over to his passenger who was nodding.

Mitchell spoke up. "Sheriff, he's right. We might be able to avoid a lot of collateral damage. I've got a feeling this guy isn't planning on living through this little road trip."

"Oh…" She thought about it. "Okay. I'll pass it along."

"Thanks." Matt listened as the call was disconnected and then looked back at Gunterson. "You thought I'd lost my mind for a minute, didn't ya?" There was a hint of humor in his voice.

"Truthfully - yes." The agent snickered and then got serious once again. "I've had a bad feeling about this guy from the start."

"Uh huh." Matt shifted in the seat. "He's been leaving fingerprints everywhere and hasn't tried to disguise himself. The only defensive measure he's taken has been swapping out cars - and that's just to make it easier to reach his destination."

"So how do you want to play it?"

"We're relatively sure he's going to hit Weedhaven first - it's on the way and really, the stepdad is more of a target than the grandmother and sister. He hurt the boy. In my opinion we go to the Toby's property and wait for him." He hit the lights and siren.

Bram drummed restlessly on the steering wheel as the truck sped southwest toward Weedhaven and he thought about the plans that he had for his stepfather. This day had been years in the planning and other than all the brushes with the cops that he had encountered on his way to Texas, it was going pretty smoothly. He knew that they knew who he was now; he had seen the report on TV and listened to the idiots on the radio drone on about how he was now on the Most Wanted list. _That's a first,_ he thought to himself. _Nobody ever wanted me._ His dad had left and then his mom had let that jerk Jack beat him half to death. And then she gave him to the state and went back home to Texas. Of course nobody in the foster homes had wanted him. They just wanted the check that the state forked over. He had been beaten in every single one of the homes that the state dropped him into. It had been a rough life and he had decided at the age of twelve that he would join the Army as soon as he graduated. Staying in school had been tough until that point, but he was determined to learn how to shoot and he had definitely done that. It had been the easiest part of boot camp for him, like the rifle was an extension of his hand.

He thought about his grandmother. Although she had never done anything to hurt him, she sure as hell hadn't helped him when he was a kid. She had come to see him one time - just once. That was when he was seven. And then after he got out of jail for busting the drill sergeant's nose he had called her and she sent him some money. That had happened a few times and then the last time she had told him that he had a sister. Well, half sister. Apparently his mom had been pregnant when she dumped him in Florida and left for Texas. The girl was about thirteen now and stayed with his grandmother. And that pissed him off. Why couldn't she have taken him in when the state got custody of him when he was nine? It seemed like his whole life he had been crapped on and enough was enough. First he would deal with Jack and his mom and then it was off to Grandma's house to find out what was so special about his sister.

DPS Corporal Nacio Benevides was stationed at the onramp to Highway 59 at El Campo watching for a white F-150 driven by one of the nation's most wanted fugitives, Bram Kasper. The original order that had come down was to stop the man; now it was to report his location. He looked in the rearview mirror and spotted the fifth truck to match that description in two hours. As many vehicles as Kasper had stolen he seriously doubted that he was still driving the truck but he had his orders. He watched as the truck sped on by slightly over the speed limit and his jaw dropped: EJS9236! That was it! Radioing in the location, he put the car in drive and merged onto the highway. The dispatcher acknowledged the information and reminded him not to follow or engage the driver. Cursing under his breath he got off at the next exit, his thoughts of possibly nailing the murderer of fellow law enforcement officers coming to a screeching halt. He only hoped the higher-ups knew just what in the hell they were doing.

CJ was restlessly flipping the channels on the TV in the study. The kids were playing in the den because of the rain outside and she didn't want them to possibly see...what? What did she think they might see? There were several possibilities including their father shooting or being shot by a known murderer. Why had she said that he should go? Plopping down into the chair behind the desk she took a deep breath and slowly exhaled and reminded herself for the thousandth time that day that Matt was probably more qualified than most of the cops in the state of Texas to deal with Bram Kasper. He had proven himself time and again. But this time? There was a knock at the door. "Come in."

Roger Mullins entered. "Hi."

"Hi. Matt didn't have a session scheduled for today did he?"

"No. I came to talk to you."

"Me?"

"Uh huh." He landed on the loveseat. "I've been watching the news all day and had a feeling that you might be feeling a little stressed."

"So now you have psychic leanings?" She gave a small laugh.

"No, call it more of an educated guess. After all, you've been taking care of him for thirty years now."

"How did you-?"

"He told me all about you two. Actually, that's how I got him to start talking after Will died. I asked him all kinds of questions about you and that started the ball rolling."

"I didn't know."

"And as much as you worry about him, Houston worries about you."

"I don't know why."

"Because he knows that what he does causes you stress." There was a pause. "I'd say that today is probably nearly as stressful for you as when he went to Mexico."

CJ didn't speak for a moment, but thoughtfully nodded. "We've been through so much together, as kids and as adults. Even before we admitted that we were in love, I couldn't bear the thought of losing him. There have been so many times over the years…" She cleared her throat. "And right now I'm beating myself up for suggesting that he go after this guy." Pointing to the TV where yet another reporter was repeating the same information that had been on the air for the last few hours she shook her head. "So yes you are right - I'm feeling stressed."

"So why did you suggest it?"

"Because that's what makes him feel better - chasing down the bad guys. Going after Emil Castanos saved him before and-" She stopped. "I've often wondered how life would have been if he hadn't been-." Once again she stopped, not knowing exactly how much her husband had told Mullins about his early life.

"If he hadn't been kidnapped when he was five?" He watched as she nodded. "And what is your conclusion?"

"He would probably have played pro ball and retired here to the ranch." She smiled. "He was really good you know. Really good. And that's what he wanted to do, but the thought of what that man did to him - it drove him. It still does."

"And how does that make you feel?"

"Scared. Proud."

"Angry?"

The answer was instantaneous. "No."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive. Do you have any idea how many people he has helped over the years?"

"From what I've seen on TV and read in the papers - a lot." He watched her. "But what about you?"

"What about me?"

"What he does affects you as well."

"I…" She didn't know what to say. "Matt and I are-" Looking for the right words, she looked at the ceiling. "One of the phrases he uses is package deal. And it's true; individually we're both good at what we do. But together…" Once again there was a pause. "We complete each other."

"But do you regret what he does?"

Her nostrils flared. "The only thing I regret is that I was too stupid and scared to tell him how in love I was with him a long time ago."

Deputy Jeff Loftis of the Jackson County Sheriff's Office waited. He had been waiting all damn day and was tired of it. His sergeant had called him over an hour earlier and told him of the new plan for catching Kasper and that was to let him pass on by to the trailer that was about two miles from his current position. He had told Sgt. Moises in no uncertain terms that it was bull - the man needed to be dropped in his tracks. Moises had reminded him that orders were orders and that unless he was ready to turn in his badge he would do as he was told. His job was to report in when Kasper passed by and then to block the road so that no one else could get through. Another unit to the south would block the traffic from that end of 172. From his place in the pines on the west side of Vaes Bay he now saw a white truck headed his way. He picked up the microphone, his palms sweaty in the heat of the afternoon. As it drew closer he could tell from the front end that it was a Ford and he felt his heart beat just a little bit faster. _Oughta blow him away right now._ When the truck was even closer he caught sight of the front plate. Radioing in to dispatch he told them that Kasper had just passed by and moved his patrol car out into the road after the truck was almost out of sight, then hit the lights and blocked both lanes. And now he would get to wait...again.


	8. Chapter 8

**08**

Matt had parked the SUV behind the barn across the road from the Toby's trailer and he and Mitchell were now leaning against the side of the building, trying to keep in the shade as much as possible, but this late in the day it was a losing proposition. Sweat poured down both of their faces and their shirts had white salt marks all over them. The ATF agent cursed for the hundredth time since leaving the comfort of the air conditioned vehicle. "Why would anyone want to live somewhere this hot and sticky?!" The immediate reply was a snicker.

"Where are you from, city boy?" The cowboy looked around to him.

"Washington State."

"Figures."

"What's that supposed to mean?" He looked at Houston as his expression changed.

"Damn it! What's he doing here?" The long legged Texan started forward as Jack Toby's Yugo slid to a stop at the end of the trailer. Both men took off running toward him as he ran from the car and up the front steps, quickly unlocking the door and running inside. Matt made it to the top of the steps and with his pistol drawn and entered the darkness of the trailer. The air conditioning had been turned off and the heat inside was stifling. "Toby!" His voice boomed out in the stillness and he could hear a rustling toward the western end and moved that way. "Toby!" There was no answer but he followed the sound to the back bedroom. "What the hell are you doing here?" He reached out and grabbed the back of Jack's shorts and pulled him out of the closet where he was on his knees. A plastic shoebox of weed was in his hands. "You dumb son of a bitch! Get up!"

"You got no right to be in here! You got no search warrant!"

"I'm trying to keep your sorry ass alive. Now get the hell out of here."

"Houston!" Gunterson was inside the living room looking out the front window at the white pickup that had just lurched to a stop in the front yard. Bram Kasper was behind the wheel with a crazy smile plastered across his face. "He's here."

"God damn it all to hell!" The cowboy shoved Toby into the wall just past the kitchen. "You better keep your ass right there. If you move I'll shoot you myself." The growl had surfaced and the white-faced man nodded his head, swallowing hard. Looking around he went to the back door.

"That don't open." Toby's voice quaked.

"Why?"

"I nailed it shut from the outside and caulked it. Damn thing leaks like a sieve."

It was at this point that the detective noticed that all of the windows on the backside of the trailer were boarded up. He gave the man an evil look. "What about the bedroom window on the end?" The answer was a shake of the head. "Boarded up, too?" Toby nodded. "Dumbass." He looked toward the eastern end. "What about that end?" The answer was another shake of the head. He exchanged a look with Gunterson. "Well, ain't that just peachy."

"He's getting out of the truck."

Matt moved into the kitchen and began pushing at the seven foot long bar that separated the kitchen from the living room. Gunterson joined him and they slid it over in front of the front door, then grabbed the couch and put it in front of the window. Two chairs and a recliner were upended and stacked on the couch. A king size mattress and springs were hauled from the eastern bedroom and placed in front of the door and braced with a dresser.

"Guess you know this means we're trapped in here." Matt looked to Mitchell who nodded. The front door rattled.

"Jack!" Bram yelled loudly and then yanked on the storm door wrenching it from its hinges, the glass breaking as he flung it over the rickety railing of the steps. "Open up you son of a bitch! It's payday!"

Matt looked to Toby who was now crouched down a scared look on his face. "You terrorized him for a year when he was a kid. This is what you get." Tears began to fall and the detective shook his head and looked away. Drawing in a deep breath he thought about CJ and the kids, closed his eyes, said a silent prayer, and then calmly started to speak. "Hey, Bram? It's Matt Houston."

Kasper stopped pounding on the door. "Who the hell are you?"

"Somebody who would like to talk to you."

"Ho ho yeah. Lemme guess: you're a cop."

Houston and Gunterson exchanged another look. The cowboy spoke again. "I'm a detective with Harris County."

"So a cop." Kasper began examining the front of the trailer.

"I understand you had a crappy time growing up."

"That's an understatement. Are Jack and Krista in there?"

"No."

"Bull." He went down the steps and walked around the eastern end of the trailer.

Gunterson told Matt about the movement and saw Toby edging back down the hall toward the western end. "What is he doing?"

Matt turned and saw as Jack slid a dilapidated washing machine away from the wall and quickly went to him. "Why didn't you tell me you had another way out?"

"I dunno."

Houston motioned to Gunterson who came to them. "Where does it come out?"

Toby pointed west. "The front side on that end. Right next to the car."

The two lawmen thought. Gunterson nodded in that direction. "We get him in the car and out of here and get the drop on Kasper." Matt nodded. "Move." He looked to Toby who slid down onto the dirt under the trailer followed by Matt who grabbed the man by the ankle and put a finger to his lips then pointed to his ear.

Crawling quietly on his belly, the rangy detective moved toward the area that the man had pointed out and could see Kasper's shadow through the perforations in the underpinning. He was circling back around to the front of the trailer.

"You get in that car, back it up, and get the hell out of here." The answer was a frantic nod. Pulling out his phone he texted Gunterson. _Make some noise on the east side._ He didn't have to wait long: in just a matter of seconds the sound of breaking glass could be heard from the far end and he saw Kasper stalking that way. "Go."

Toby slid back the end panel of underpinning and scrambled to his feet. He opened the car door and in just a second revved the engine up, slammed it into reverse and took off across the cow lot, spinning the Yugo around and popping it into drive. Kasper ran along the back side of the trailer, shooting as he went. There was a sound of several shots ricocheting off of metal as the noise of the car died in the distance.

While Toby was making his escape, the detective had removed the keys from the Ford and ran his knife blade into two of the tires, the whoosh of air rushing out bringing Kasper around the end of the trailer. He fired a couple of shots at Houston who was on the opposite side of the truck now, crouched down behind what was left of the right rear tire.

"Bram, this needs to end right now." The answer was an anguished scream, one that he imagined that an eight year old Bram had probably uttered many times during his years of mistreatment.

"Do you have any idea what you've done?" Kasper was half screaming and half crying. "You've ruined everything. I've spent the last ten years planning how to kill him." He kicked at the truck as another scream issued forth.

Matt listened intently for movement both from Bram and Gunterson as well. He was sure that the ATF agent had slid through the hole behind the washer and was most likely watching their target from under the trailer. He couldn't hear anything but the sound of Kasper having a meltdown. Taking a deep breath he tried to talk to the man again. "Look, I know you got screwed over as a kid. I get it, man. But this has got to end. You can't keep on like this. Deep down you know it." Now he heard as bullets were being loaded into a magazine.

"It's going to end all right. But I'm going to take out one more cop before it does." There was another crazy laugh.

Houston got down on his belly again, his pistol pointed to the driver's side of the truck. Kasper was toward the back end. Sweat ran down into his eyes as he edged toward the other side trying not to make any noise or raise a cloud of dust. He heard as the magazine was slapped into place and the slide pulled back and released.

"Come on out, detective. Time to die." Kasper began moving toward the back of the truck and Matt watched as his feet got to the middle, then squeezed off a round hitting the young man in the left ankle. He dropped, rolled away from the truck and then spun back toward the cowboy, his pistol coming up to fire. Matt pulled the trigger first and watched as a hole opened up in the young man's forehead before his head whipped backward and he crumpled to the ground.

Sliding out from under the truck and gaining his feet once more, Houston kept his pistol trained on Bram until he was sure that there was absolutely no way that the young man would be returning fire. The bright blue eyes were staring almost tranquilly up at the sky above, his arms spread wide and the 9mm Beretta a couple of feet from his outstretched hand. Although he knew he wouldn't find one, the detective felt for a pulse. Kasper was gone.

"Mitchell!" He called out to the ATF agent and heard no reply. Holstering his gun he dove back under the trailer and crawled back up into the hallway. "Damn it!" The ATF agent was slumped against the refrigerator, a bullet hole in his right side. He raised his head.

"Did you get him?"

"Yeah." Matt pulled out his phone and called for help. "Let's get you out of here, pard."


	9. Chapter 9

**09**

It was almost two hours later before Matt headed south down Texas 172, the sides of the highway filled with news vehicles from all over. He flew past Tamara Placer stirring up a cloud of dust that had the so-called reporter choking. A smile crossed his face as the lights flashed and siren wailed all the way to Victoria where Mitchell had been evacuated by air earlier. He had lost a good deal of blood but was stable when the detective had watched the chopper take off from the cow lot.

He entered the busy emergency department and after a slight delay, inquired about Gunterson. A nurse looked at the man before her, covered in dirt and sweat. With an upturned nose and expression of disgust she informed him that the agent was in surgery. He was directed to the waiting room where he bought two bottles of water, immediately chugging down the first and then started sipping the second as he took a seat and pulled out his phone to call CJ. "Hey, Lil Mama." He heard the relief in her voice coming over the phone.

"Hey, Cowboy. I heard somebody got hurt."

"Mitchell took a round in his right side. He's in surgery but I think he'll be okay."

"So you're alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Kinda grungy and stinky." He spied the nurse glaring at him. "Don't think the nurse likes me sitting in her nice plastic chair." There was a giggle on the other end of the line and it made his heart soar. "But I was wondering about you."

"Me? I'm fine. The kids are in bed already."

"Yeah…" He took another drink and his stomach rumbled. It had been a long time since breakfast.

"Hon, there's something that I think you need to know." She settled back in the chair behind the desk. "Tamara Placer is trying to open up a can of worms over you going back to work."

"Oh? Well, after all the dust I dumped on her when I went down 172 they oughta have something to live in."

"You didn't…"

"Yup. Hit the gas pedal for all it was worth. Sure made her look better." There was more laughter and he chuckled as well.

"You may have to deal with some questions when you get back. Martinez is already being raked over the coals because of it."

"Damn."

"I talked to her earlier. She said that you were probably more sane than Placer."

"That's not sayin' much." He downed the rest of the bottle. "I'll deal with it when I get back. Not exactly sure when that will be, though. I hate to leave Mitchell down here by his lonesome."

"How about I come down there?"

"Well…" He thought about it. "I could sure use some clean clothes. And I wouldn't object to someone washing my back."

"I'll leave here as soon as I get a bag packed."

"Love you, Babe. Thanks."

"Love you more. See you soon." She hung up the phone to see Sheila and Madre Rosa standing in the doorway, both women smiling.

Rosa was the first to speak. "Good. You two need some time alone."

"Exactly." The nanny smiled and moved aside so that her friend could move past to go pack.


End file.
